Unforgettable
by CorvusCorvidae
Summary: With Santana sound asleep next to her, Quinn can't help but reflect on everything that was and what it now will be. Aftermath of events in 4x14. One-shot. Quinntana Week Day Five: Headcanon.


Quinntana Week Day Five: Headcanon

Thanks goes to Grdnofevrythng for prompting me ideas to use for this theme, and for also beta reading it. Cheers!

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Unforgettable

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She was asleep, her dark hair tousled across the pillow, and her arms curled round the covers in front of her. She didn't like to cuddle, or so you'd been told, but her grip on them was pretty secure, and you'd woken to her body nestled up to yours, hand over your naked waist, and against your stomach. Though, the spell had been broken when you had rolled over to look at her.

You'd always known Santana was gorgeous, and in that moment, with the hum of the air-con being the only distinguishable noise in the room, and her inevitable waking far off in the distance, you finally had time to really take her in. There would be no harsh glares if you stared too long, no biting remarks for looking her way, and you wouldn't have to watch her make eyes at another blonde while you did so.

No, in this moment, you could look, admire, and appreciate the girl lying in bed next to you without the fear of her constant rejection or her venomous tongue. She didn't even look at all threatening, which was a nice change, and you smiled at how peaceful she was with each slow inhale and exhale of breath.

There was a calm about her, one you had longed to see, longed to be the reason of. You had seen her like this before, after many a sleepovers where Brittany and her would sneak off together, but you had never been the cause.

Well, tonight that was different, and you could long lay those thoughts to rest. It had been you, after all this time, it had finally been you to bring that easy going slumber to her body. Yes, you'd had to instigate it, but that wasn't surprising. If Santana had never looked at you before, after all these years, then there would be no reason for that to change, especially not when you projected the image of heterosexuality so very well. You had to act, because she never would.

Tucking hair behind your ear and licking your lips, you took a shaky breath and snuggled into the pillow, shuffling just a little bit closer than before. She was still sleeping soundly, oblivious to all the thoughts running a mile a minute in your mind, and you almost envied her for being able to sleep so peacefully. `

You had napped from pure exhaustion, but once awakened, there was no going back to sleep. She didn't seem to have that issue, especially as her eyes opened blearily and then closed again, burying her face back into the pillow. Only you seemed to be over analysing this, but wasn't that always going to be the case?

Quinn Fabray was not meant to be lying naked next to her best friend after the best sex she'd ever had. No, you just weren't, and despite everything that had occurred, despite how great it truly was, you could already feel the sickening twist of your gut in fear.

You had changed things. You had messed with the game and the consequences were unknown. Santana and you could slap each other into oblivion, could belittle and break the others willpower, but nowhere in the rulebook did it say you could flirt your way into her bed and walk away unscathed.

There was also the issue of Brittany. She was still your friend, and this was her ex-girlfriend you had just been knuckle deep in. Where was your loyalty when you were complimenting Santana on her killer dress? Where was your friendship when you were removing said dress from her body and moving her towards the bed?

But then again, no. You had been there long before Brittany. You had stood by Santana's side since you were children, and you'd watched as your best friend found a someone new. You had welcomed Brittany in, treated her with kindness, and even grown close to her, but that first sting of being replaced, that had never left.

So maybe there was no reason for you to feel as though betrayal was reeking off you with the musk of sex and sweat. Santana had ended that relationship, and Brittany had taken no time at all to dive off into the distraction that was Sam. It's not as if he was your ex or anything.

Therefore, this wasn't betrayal. This wasn't disloyalty. This was exploration. This was pushing the parameters of your friendship with your best friend just like Brittany had done with Santana so many years ago. You were doing exactly what she had done, only you were already under water by the time this moment came.

And unlike Brittany, you would never get another chance.

This night, this hotel room, this bed, this was it. By the time the sun rose tomorrow morning, she'd be packed and ready to go, heading back to her life in New York. There would be no long kisses of goodbye, no lingering glances as the other drove away, no drawn out process of saying you'll keep in touch. It would be quick and easy, just like your dress had been at hitting the floor hours before.

Santana wouldn't let something like this mess up the friendship the two of you had in place. She valued it too much, that you were aware of. As long as the two of you were nestled up in there, hidden from reality, then you could kiss her till your heart's content. But once that door opened, and real life poured on in, it would truly be over.

This was only a two-time thing. She'd go back to New York, and you would go back to Yale. You had to remember that.

This would become a distant memory, tucked away in the recesses of your minds, only to be joked about later on in life over alcohol. You might be able to forget, maybe even regret this little upset, but then again, who were you kidding?

You'd kissed her in the darkness and woken up in the light. You'd memorised her skin like a map, tracking and tracing the lines, the curves, and the contours. You'd done everything to remember the sound of her moaning into your body, the feel of her pressed against you, and the sight of her losing complete control.

You'd never forget.

On one hand, you wanted to thank her for giving you this, but on the other, you questioned ever propositioning her. Aside from everything you'd said, all the lies you'd told, Yale was not what you expected it to be. You had found a place, a groove amongst other likeminded people, but you missed the very girl lying next to you. She always pushed you to be stronger, better, and to take no prisoners. Without her, you were practically boring.

Tonight might have pushed her further away than before. She had assured you already that it wouldn't turn into a mess, no U-Haul, no commitment needed, but maybe…maybe that was the problem. It wasn't like you were after anything serious, because there were still miles worth of distance between the two of you, but maybe you just needed a little more than what she'd offered.

Maybe you wanted one more night with her, one without the alcohol, without everyone else present, without a check out time the following day. Maybe you wanted to experience all she had to offer without the niggling feeling that she was humouring you because the blonde she loved was getting it on in another room. Maybe, after all this time, you could admit that you just wanted her.

Your head was clear now, the water had seen to that, and maybe this was a realisation you needed to make. The alcohol had been necessary, because there was no way you'd ever have been able to flirt with Santana without that confidence booster. But after you had got her back to your room, you needed to focus so you could remember, so you could take her in, so you could feel every emotion like it was the air in your drowning lungs.

Maybe now, the clarity was going to be your undoing, however. It had finally granted access to parts of your mind you had long since closed off, and in return, you were being left with all these emotions centred on the one girl who you'd had more than an infatuation for.

With this one night, Santana had given you an answer, one you had been questioning since you were fourteen and you'd found her kissing Brittany in the back bedroom of her house. At fourteen, though, the question hadn't been what it was like to be with a woman, but rather what would it be like to kiss Santana.

It was an innocent thought that you had quickly thrown away in disgust. You prayed it away. You focused on Finn, and Puck, and then Sam, and then repeat. However, that one curious thought which should have died in the depths of your heart had grown. It had transpired into something so much bigger than what your heart could handle.

No longer was the thought what would it be like to kiss Santana. It had steamrolled into what would it be like to touch Santana, which then became what would it be like to have her touch you back. Those thoughts gave you shivers in the night, made your body vibrate with excitement, and in the harsh light of day quiver with sin.

In the days, weeks, months that followed the questions adapted quickly. What would it be like to have her hands on your waist, lips on your neck, and panting into your skin? What would it be like to have her hovering over you, her fingers working you closer and closer, making you whine and whimper?

Until no more, the only question that remained, the one you finally had an answer to, grew comfortable in your heart, settled into your mind, and took over your actions. What would it be like to be with Santana?

No woman would compare, could compete, and you were foolish to think otherwise.

She had been perfect, everything and more than you ever imagined. There was nothing more to it. She had brought you up so high and let you crash down so beautifully, kissing you softly as she did so, cementing herself in the recesses of your skin, your mind, and your heart.

There was no escaping this now. You had fed the addiction, with no regards of the fallout. She'd be gone by morning, and you'd only have the memories and the heartache to remember it by. But it was still worth it, even so.

One night to explore everything you'd wondered, twice, and to come to the only conclusion possible: you were enamoured with her, devote in your appreciation of everything she was; the good, the bad, the venomous tongue, and even the constant rejection.

What came after this, what you were to do once the sun rose, you didn't know. You would let her lead, and you would follow, taking direction from the cues she gave. It was all in her hands now, but a part of you knew, a part of you already suspected that this was it. This was the only time you'd ever be here, ever have her within your heart's distance.

Growing bold, knowing that the end was nearing, you pushed her hair away from her face, and watched as she took a deep breath and began to turn towards you. Transfixed with the sight, and hoping that you hadn't woken her completely, you watched as she tried to open her eyes and then scrunched up her face to try again.

"What time is it?" Santana grumbled, her eyes still shut, clearly having given up on trying to wake.

"I don't know," you confessed, being too scared to look at the clock. It was another reminder of the reality you didn't want to face. It was ticking away your time with her, and for that, you could not forgive it.

"Why're you even awake? Get some sleep." It sounded like a demand, and the furrow in her brow had you smiling softly. She still hadn't reached that threatening level you were used to, and given everything running around inside of you right now, you could regard the motion as actually being rather adorable on her.

"I'll try," you replied, and she seemed to accept your answer as her head nodded briefly.

Watching her try and fall back asleep was all you required before doing the same. She might not be there when you awakened, but your mind had memorised enough to make this last. Whatever was going to happen between the two of you would be her doing. You had made the first move by bringing the two of you back into this room. It was her turn.

Being able to read her like a book, however, told you that her move would only result in pushing this to the back of her mind, and resuming the friendship both of you had kicked to the floor with your clothes.

At least you had the memories of tonight and your imagination to fill in the gaps she'd leave behind. Hopefully with them, you'd be able to recover the cold-turkey she was about to put you through.

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End file.
